


Embrace

by Xero_Sky



Series: Kindred Spirits [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Becketcest - Freeform, Consensual Adult Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xero_Sky/pseuds/Xero_Sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Reckoning", in which werewolf Herc Hansen saved Yancy after Knifehead, at the price of both Beckets joining his bloodline.</p><p>In Herc's absence, the Beckets struggle now to come to terms with their new lives, while the rest of the world does the same.  They'll see it through, though: Beckets always do, as long as they have each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> You may wish to read my Herc/Raleigh fic "Reckoning" before this one, though I don't know if it's absolutely necessary. It's the same universe, a few weeks later.

The thing is, there’s no reason everything should have gone to shit almost as soon as Herc turned his back. Everyone involved is an adult, and the rules hadn’t changed in years, so there’s no excuse.

Except for the parts that were probably inevitable all along.

*******

The Ice Box never sleeps. Eternal vigilance and what have you, plus crews constantly on call, means that it functions at a low boil all the time.

These last few weeks have been worse than most. Since Knifehead almost killed the Beckets, everything has been off balance. The fall of Gypsy Danger has left her crew mostly unoccupied, although experienced crews will never be out of a job, and everybody has to adjust.

Striker Eureka had been covering for Gypsy while jaegers were being shuffled around, but her absence was being felt down south, and she was transferred, along with her pilots and crew, back to Sydney last week. Only a few of her crew were left behind, and they’d be gone in the next day or two. That wasn’t unusual for a jaeger transfer, but Striker had special problems.

Like the fact that half of her pilots’ pack had been left behind. Herc and Chuck Hansen have been gone for almost a week now, and Raleigh and Yancy Becket aren’t flying out to join them until tomorrow night.

The Rangers Becket had been kept behind during Striker’s transit time, waiting for their final paperwork to drop and get debriefed on their transfer before they followed their Alpha and his consort to Sydney’s Shatterdome. Despite protests from the US government, Herc had every right to keep the Beckets with him.

Interference with shifter families or internal clan business was clearly against the Pact, the agreement between the UN and the clans which had formally recognized the sovereignty of the clans and had brought the werewolves into the war. At this point, the PPDC could not afford to lose its shifter contingent. Aside from their physical superiority in many areas, the werewolves were also more resistant to kaiju toxins, which made them crucial for everything from search and rescue to jaeger piloting.

The absolute care taken to make sure the Pact wasn’t so much as slightly dented had become of the general culture of the PPDC, and anyone who couldn’t deal with it, who couldn’t work side by side with the shifters, either adapted or got the hell out.

The US had recognized the clans since 1832, but it wasn’t happy about giving up the Beckets, highly-trained and experienced Rangers who also happened to be photogenic as hell and popular with the press. Politicians had been busy making speeches about how terrible it would be to lose them, trying to ride on their popularity.

Considering that a coalition of influential American religious groups was trying at the same time to get Gypsy Danger scrapped instead of rebuilt to “keep Hell bound hands off the instruments of God”, the brothers hadn’t been much impressed with any of the bullshit they were hearing. Even if Herc hadn’t forbidden it in advance, they wouldn’t have given any interviews anyway. There were still official hearings to be gone through in the next month or so, but, for the most part, the Beckets were avoiding as much of it as they could, mostly with the PPDC’s help.

It was something of a shock, then, when they realized that their last debrief wasn’t being run by the PPDC, but by US and UN officials eager to get inside information on clan politics before the Beckets were too far gone to be cooperative. The two of them were thought of as a unique intelligence opportunity, and without their Alpha’s presence, vulnerable to careful manipulation. The Beckets were the only PPDC personnel at the meeting, as well as the only shifters.

It was clear to them right off the bat what kind of bullshit they were dealing with. They refused to speak without the Marshall present, and were told that he was busy. The tone was smooth, calming; they were all on the same side, right? There were just a few questions that they hoped the Beckets could help them out with… When it was clear that it wasn’t working, someone suggested they be interviewed separately, “so they felt more comfortable”. The idea was obviously to exploit any weaknesses they might not have had together, and that was precisely the kind of thing that pissed Rangers off, even the ones that weren’t brothers and hadn’t been turned together.

Fuck that.

The Beckets had stopped cooperating within ten minutes. The officer in charge was not familiar with how things worked in the PPDC; he was the product of a more traditional military, in which you told 20-something pilots what to do and they fucking well did it. He ordered them to comply, and when they refused and got up to leave, he threatened to have them forcibly separated.

It was so specifically and terribly the wrong thing to say to the Beckets that it was almost a thing of beauty.

Violence might have been avoided, though, if one of their security team hadn’t caught hold of Raleigh’s arm before he reached the door, trying to restrain him. Or, more specifically, if Yancy hadn’t seen him do it. Raleigh might have shrugged it off. There was no way in hell that Yancy was going to let that go. None of these assholes had the goddamned right to lay a finger on them.

Marshall Pentecost had been in a conference call – he would later investigate the timing of that later and bring charges -- when word reached him that the debrief was in progress. By the time the fight spilled out into the hallway, he was there with enough security to shut the whole thing down. He would not allow interference with his Rangers, regardless of species.

A small flood of senior PPDC officials and security arrived in the Shatterdome almost immediately, arresting the members of the debriefing team was while they were still in Medical, tallying up the price of fighting with werewolves; even unshifted, the brothers had done more than hold their own. Three had to be left behind until they were safe to move.

The fact that Ranger Hercules Hansen, senior Alpha, Chosen Hand of the Blood, Voice of the Southern Clans had been on the phone minutes after the debrief started had apparently inspired the brass into moving their asses.

No one bothered asking how he knew what had happened. They just did what he said, humans and shifters alike.

Pentecost got the next call from Herc, which started off frosty but ended almost infinitely friendlier. Stacker was lodging public complaints, formally apologies from various officials were on the way, and the guilty parties would be off his base as soon as possible without actually killing them. He had no sympathy for them.

At one point he’d answered the bitching of the wounded offenders by solemnly telling one that he’d convinced Hansen not to eat anyone, but it’d been a near thing. Later, much later, he and Herc would have a mean but good laugh over the way the man’s heart monitor alarm had gone off.

********

The least surprising thing to either brother comes when they are pulled into a private conference room right after things were under control. After the door closes, leaving them alone, Herc’s angry face comes on screen. He’s still in his drivesuit and obviously pissed off, but he has nothing but concern for them. The bastards are already being removed from the base, he tells them, and he’d had a word with people who should’ve fucking known better than to mess with his kin.

“We’re set to see you in two days,” he says. “You’ll have an escort of clan folk until you get here.”

“We don’t need one, Alpha,” Yancy mutters, and Raleigh looks at him, caught off guard by his brother’s sullen tone.

Herc just cocks his head and evaluates Yancy’s posture, and the way Raleigh gets up and stands behind him. His eyes narrow. “Reckon you should’ve looked after Raleigh better, don’t you, boy?”

“That’s not fair –“Raleigh starts, but Herc cuts him off with a gesture.

“Yes, sir,” Yancy gritted out, lowering his eyes to negate the challenge in his voice.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. Being an alpha doesn’t make you responsible for every goddamned thing that happens. Sometimes you only get to react, and you both did fine. Got your claws wet, defended your pack mate, and you didn’t give up a damned thing. You did your duty, Yancy. Now you’re gonna do what I tell you, clear?”

Raleigh moves to wrap an arm around his brother. “We’re clear, Alpha.”

“Yancy?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Herc regards them both, taking in Yancy’s lowered head and Raleigh’s protective stance. He’d pegged them as alpha and beta right after turning them, and damned if he hadn’t been dead on. Yancy is wound tight and protective; Raleigh is more outgoing but fiercely devoted.

If any of them survive the fucking war, he’s gonna take all three of his boys home and re-establish his bloodline, take control of his clan instead of just representing it to the world. Yancy will be his left hand as Chuck will be his right arm, and Raleigh will be their heart; everything will be the way it should be.

In the meantime, he needs to get the two of them home. They haven’t even shifted yet, for gods’ sakes. Herc honestly hadn’t expected the shit that happened today, and that’s on him; he’s been out of touch with American and UN politics, focused on his family and the fight. He should have guessed that the fucking religious bigots couldn’t leave this alone, not with Gypsy still dead.

There is nothing he can do about it right now, not in front of the boys. When he has them safe and at his side again, then they’ll talk it all over, plan a strategy. Now he just needs to make sure the younglings keep their wits about themselves until then.

His phone chimes softly and he glances at it.

“We got your flight moved up to tomorrow morning. Be on it. The last of Striker’s crew will look after you, probably want you to bed down with them in the crew quarters tonight, to be honest.”

“Alpha…” Raleigh said, but Herc growled softly, and he subsided.

“I’ll see you as soon as I can. Until then, look after each other, yeah? You’re both young enough for something like this to rattle you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You need anything, you call me or Chuck direct. And don’t worry – nobody will dare try this shit again. My word on it.”

Herc hangs up after that, leaving the two of them to each other.

Yancy stands up, but only to settle back against the table and hold his arms out to Raleigh, who comes into them without hesitation. It’s an easy embrace, and comfortable, and they sink into it, resting against each other.

They hadn’t been like this before. They’d loved each other, of course they had, even before the drift had pulled them so tightly together. They just hadn’t been so needy before, so eager to touch and be touched.

Not back when they were human.

It’s just a werewolf thing, Chuck had said. Touch and scent and taste mean more now, and are needed more often, as a constant source of reassurance and comfort. It’s just in their nature now to be close like this.

All Yancy knows is that he needs Raleigh right now, close and warm and safe, and his brother gives him everything. He feels the way Raleigh draws his scent in, and smiles. So strange, and yet so completely natural, like Herc’s kid had said.

Their phones chime simultaneously, and Yancy fishes his out to check. “Flight’s been moved up to 08:00.”

“Huh,” Raleigh murmurs, not lifting his head away from his brother’s shoulder. “What do you want to do until then?”

“Herc would probably want us to go back to our quarters before our babysitters show up,” Yancy said, and the hint of a growl in his voice makes Raleigh grin.

“Why don’t we get out of here? Go get a beer or something,” he says, pulling back. “Haven’t done that in awhile.”

Yancy lifts an eyebrow at him and looks dubious.

“Herc didn’t use that voice on us, did he? We’re big boys,” Raleigh adds.

He has a point, of course. Herc could have ordered them to do whatever he wanted, and if he’d used his command voice, they would’ve had to follow his instructions to the letter. The compulsion to obey would’ve been overwhelming. He’d only used it a couple of times on them, mostly to keep Yancy from interfering when Herc had to deal with Raleigh’s panic attacks. It had been a harsh time, and neither of them was happy to remember it.

And Herc really hadn’t said what they should do, other than look after each other.

“Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Hell, yeah,” Raleigh grinned.

*******

The bar is like a lot of places in Alaska. It has seen some hard times and harsh weather, but it isn’t going any place. Inside it’s warm and a little worn out here and there, and you could make yourself comfortable there with a little work.

“Locals only,” a guy warns them off immediately when the brothers walk in, and that probably would have killed the mood almost instantly, if they’d been willing to take any shit.

“Fuck you,” Yancy says conversationally, walking up to the bar. “Grey here?’

“I said –“

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” a man says, coming in from the back. “Ain’t seen you around here in a year or so, Yance.”

“Been busy.”

“Heard about that,” he says, drawing a couple of beers for them. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, thanks to the kid here,” Yancy grins, ruffling Raleigh’s hair to annoy him. “Doing good. We’re transferring out, though, and thought we’d get a drink first.”

“Anything you boys want is on the house. Just ask. And don’t mind this moron,” he says, gesturing at the man who’d warned them off. “How the hell a man lives here his whole life and don’t know the Becket boys is beyond me.”

“Thanks, Grey,” Yancy salutes him with his beer and the man grins at him before leaving them be.

Raleigh beams at his brother and drains half his glass.

They haven’t done anything else productive today, other than making sure their gear is packed and tagged for the flight, and sneaking out of the ‘dome. Not to mention stealing, technically, a work truck from the motor pool. Escaping their would-be escorts had been harder than slipping by security, but they’d been up to it. Whatever else there was to say about being wolves, their new senses and physical skills were amazing. The ghost drift between them was stronger than it’d ever been, and they hadn’t even had to speak while they were making good on their escape. They’d sent a note to Striker’s acting crew chief, saying they’d be back before sunrise, and considered that good enough.

Because, seriously, fuck the Shatterdome and its stink of metal and ozone. They wanted air and sunlight, and space to run in. Like little kids, the two of them had gone out into the woods near what had once been their house, and chased each other through the forest, laughing and yelling at each other, running faster than they’d ever been able to before, tackling each other in the snow, and tracking everything that moved. It was the best. They hadn’t been taught to shift yet; that was waiting until Herc formally presented them to their new clan, something that both of them dreaded. Right now, though, keeping up with a deer as it sprang away or finding the track of a bear seemed like the best sport in the world.

The bar occurred to them when it started to get dark, reminding them that their night vision, while excellent, wasn’t yet up to the task of running through trees after the sun set. After Raleigh had nearly knocked himself out, they’d agreed to get someplace warm.

The superior night vision, like the Hansens had, would come when they’d mastered shifting well enough to partially shift their eyes in the darkness.

They’d seen Chuck do it in full daylight once, to get a point across to a J-tech who was being a pain in the ass and really should have known better than fuck with a Ranger. He’d laughed later about the headache the suddenly blinding light had given him, but his eyes going feral and red had motivated the tech to get her shit together almost instantly. If Chuck could to it, the Beckets could. In time.

Right then, though, beer had sounded like a better idea than standing in the dark, trying to see through it.

So they’d come here, to a place they both knew very well, even if it was from the other side of the bar.

Both boys had worked their way through Raleigh’s last years of high school, doing whatever work they could find in order to keep the lights on and their bellies full, taking care of their little sister as best they knew how. Someone had to be with her at night, and that had left Yancy out picking up shifts wherever he could.

He’d been unloading cases of beer at Grey’s for a trucking company when the man had seen a pair of lowlifes make Yancy an offer he’d been too desperate not to consider, and from then on Yancy had been working for Grey in the afternoons, doing everything but tending the bar. It had been decent money, and it was safe, even if he’d spent a lot of the time keeping out of sight because he was underage. Yancy had worked his day job and come into the bar every night for a long time.

Until the day someone had tipped off social services and they’d come out to the Becket house and taken Jazmine away. Raleigh had been three days short of his eighteenth birthday, but they’d taken him too, maybe just to get a hot meal in him. When he came back, utterly furious, Yancy had had an idea for them.

With Jazmine someone else’s responsibility, they’d been able to do it. The PPDC recruiter had been more than happy to see them coming.

For awhile there, though, Grey’s place had been a lifeline. None of them ever talked about it. They’d sent him a case of scotch, the really good stuff, after graduating, and he’s happy to see them now, and that’s enough.

Sometimes a lack of sentimentality is a relief.

********

They move over to a table in a corner, instinct and training telling them not to put their backs to an open room. They don’t feel threatened, but the thought of having to explain themselves to their Alpha if they got involved in a bar fight is more than enough inspiration.

When it happens, though, it happens fast.

The bang of the front door opening too fast and the racking of a shotgun are the loudest sounds in the room, and they bracket the beginning of it nicely.

There are five of them, four from the outside and one from a table in the back. They’re all locals, and they move in around the Beckets, not quite in their personal space, blocking them off from the room. Raleigh is standing up at his brother’s back almost instantly, smiling at them in that sort of lopsided way which means absolutely no good. Other than that, the brothers have not gone into a defensive mode, and that registers on a couple of them.

“You take this shit outside,” Grey bellows, his voice cutting right through the moment. “Fuck with me and I’ll have your alphas down here so quick your heads’ll spin.”

The youngest of Grey’s workers-- who looks a lot like the kind of stray Yancy once was – is holding the shotgun. Grey and his barman have assault rifles. Life around here seems to have gotten a little more exciting than either Becket remembers.

Yancy is the only one still seated. “I don’t think there’s a problem here, Grey,” he says, cocking his head at the strangers. “Is there?”

That last is directed at an older man with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and eyes that look like the sun has bleached most of the blue out of them over the years. He grins at Yancy, showing a hint of sharp teeth, but it lacks certainty.

“Don’t need to be,” the man says. “Don’t need to be no trouble at all.”

He grabs a chair and flips it around, then sits in it heavily, leaning his crossed arms on the back of it.

“Just a friendly little discussion about what you and your Beta are doing here without having introduced yourselves first,” he says, and Yancy gets it. The strict protocols that werewolves follow never fail to amaze him. Maybe it’s the only way they can keep from slaughtering each other. These guys think he and his brother are a pair of southerners travelling through northern territory without the basic goddamned courtesy of introducing themselves first.

He is almost thinking of explaining things, maybe even vaguely apologizing so that he can smooth things over and these yokels can fuck off in peace, when Raleigh speaks up from behind him. There’s another point of courtesy that’s being ignored, and Herc Hansen raises his boys to know their manners.

“Who said you could sit down in front of him without asking?” Raleigh growls, his voice deep and rich with menace. Yancy doesn’t even have to look at him to know that he’s playing his role to the hilt. They think he’s Yancy’s Beta? His Alpha brother’s right hand? Then so be it; nobody gets to disrespect Yancy in front of him.

“What?” the man says, caught off guard, and the ones he’s with aren’t much quicker on the uptake, except for a woman in the back who rolls her eyes, holds her hands up, palms out, in front of her heart in the traditional way of showing she’s not shifted, and backs off several steps. She’ll defend her people if necessary, but she’s otherwise divorced herself from whatever violent stupidity may go down tonight.

“This is Yancy Becket,” Raleigh declares, and his smile is pure Herc, dangerous and unrelenting. “An alpha of the Hansen bloodline, bondson of Ranger Hercules Hansen, Voice of the Southern Clans. Who gave you the _right_ to disrespect him?”

Yancy doesn’t look away from the other werewolf, but, goddamnit, he wants to. He wants to see what Raleigh looks like right now, showing his teeth, not fucking around with these morons.

The Beckets haven’t even been taught to shift yet, but it doesn’t fucking matter as long as they’re together. Raleigh has his back, and Yancy will be dead and damned before he lets him get hurt.

He leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow, and waits.

 _It’s not the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog._ His mom used to say that.

Damned right.

And the northerners back down.

The big man stands up and flips the chair back around, standing up. He doesn’t put his head down, but he stares somewhere near Yancy’s left ear. He still has to represent his own people. Although, honestly, Yancy doubts he has any authority to do that. If he’s an alpha, he’s weaker than any Yancy’s ever seen. Using Herc as the standard to measure other shifters by is probably a bad idea, though.

“My brother and I were born here,” Yancy says after a while, making him wait for it, “and I won’t eat shit so you can make your dick look bigger.”

“You’re in our territory, and my Alpha will want to know it,” the man grumbles stubbornly, and Yancy supposes he has a point, kind of. Even though the turning of the Beckets is one of the worst-kept secrets in PPDC history, they haven’t been out of the dome before, and whoever the local alpha is, he or she probably wasn’t expecting someone like them to turn up out of nowhere. Shatterdomes were neutral territory under the Pact, but this wasn’t.

“Tell your Alpha that Yancy and Raleigh Becket were here, and that we’d pay our respects if we weren’t flying out in a few hours.”

The werewolf nods, because he doesn’t have much choice, now does he?

“While you’re at it, have them teach you some goddamned manners,” Raleigh growls, and Yancy barely has the control to keep from laughing at how awesome his brother is tonight.

“Now fuck off and leave us alone.” Yancy looks at each of them specifically until they look away, and then Raleigh slides back down into his chair again, and the moment, whether the others like it or not, is over.

The northern shifters make as if to go find tables to sit at, but Grey waves them out. “You don’t pull stupid shit in my place and then expected to get served, assholes.”

They troop out, trying to retain their dignity, and Grey’s eyes shift over to the Beckets. “You got any more problems?”

“Didn’t have that one to start with,” Raleigh says. “Can we get another beer?”

Raleigh breaks out the dimples, and Grey snorts at him.

“Fuckin’ werewolves,” Grey growls, and Raleigh catches the flash of red in his eyes. He gets it now, why Grey hadn’t left Yancy out on the street. Kin looking after kin. And neither Becket had ever guessed.

The guns go away completely, though, vanishing behind the bar, and a minute later there are two more bottles waiting for them. Grey’s got his phone out, and Raleigh’s hearing picks up the voice of a woman answering on the other end.

“Fuck, Grey, what have they done now?” she says by way of greeting, and then the man is gone into the back room.

Raleigh grins and takes the beers back to Yancy.

********

They can’t stop being pleased with themselves. It’s not the alcohol – they’d have to be drinking a lot harder and faster to get a serious buzz before pissing it all away. There’s an energy between them now, simmering under their skin, and it brings a warmth and a glow to their relationship that’s been missing since before Herc turned them. It had saved Yancy’s life, but joining Herc’s bloodline had been as traumatic as any birth, and this is the first time they’ve really been able to relax with just each other.

They leave Grey’s not too long after, spilling out into the night laughing. The truck is going to take some time to warm up after sitting there, and they take the opportunity to turn the talk to more private things. Things that they hadn’t wanted to discuss where strangers might overhear.

“You’re fucking awesome, Rals,” Yancy almost gushes, and Raleigh cracks up.

“That’s a secret?”

“’Learn your goddamn manners!’” Yancy growls, imitating him.

“Shit, can you imagine them doing that to Herc?’

They laugh, and, okay, maybe they did have a lot to drink. “Get the fuck out of my face, you seppo piece of shit,” Raleigh growls in a terrible Australian accent, and Yancy groans.

“He’d be proud of you, you know,” Yancy says, smiling softly.

“Proud of you, too,” Raleigh responds, putting his hand on Yancy’s shoulder. “Such a badass, sitting there staring them down.”

He’s joking a little, but he’s mostly serious, and Yancy sees it.

“Hey, if I’m called upon to defend my pack by sitting on my ass, I can and will make that sacrifice,” he says sternly, trying to cover up his blush.

“That’s my alpha. Modest and self-sacrificing to a fault.”

Raleigh’s tone is softer than his words, and it seems to trickle right down Yancy’s back, making him shiver a little. The entire atmosphere between them has changed, and Yancy isn’t fool enough not to recognize it. Raleigh’s fingers gently knead his shoulder.

“I’m not your Alpha, Rals,” he makes himself say. His voice sounds so lost, so unlike himself. Is he really that needy?

“No,” Raleigh agrees, lips curving into a slow smile, “but you are an alpha, and you’re mine.”

Yancy tries. He tries not to breathe in Raleigh’s scent, and feel how warm he is, sitting that close to him. He tries to think of anything that’s not how much he loves his brother. He tries not to shiver at the way his brother’s fingers have moved up under his collar, stroking the back of his neck.

He tries.

Then Raleigh tilts his head, and there’s nothing in the world that can stop Yancy from leaning forward to kiss his brother. There’s no hesitation, no reluctance: just a soft, easy kiss, tongues sliding gently together.

They pull apart and watch each other, waiting for regrets or fears, but there are none. Just the heat growing between them, and a sweet trickle of relief.

Then Raleigh kisses him again, shifting so he’s almost in Yancy’s lap, and it’s everything Yancy has ever needed. He wraps his arms around his brother and grinds his hips up, needing to feel everything.

Raleigh moans in his mouth, and then pulls away slowly, his eyes dark and his lips softly swollen.

“Not here,” he implores. Yancy starts kissing up the curve of his throat, and Raleigh lifts his chin even higher, letting him have what he wants. He shudders when Yancy starts using his teeth, dragging sharp points gently over sensitive skin.

“I want --- nnn!” Raleigh gasps as Yancy’s clever tongue finds his turning scar, the marks of their Alpha’s teeth, and laps across it, making him tremble uncontrollably.

Yancy’s careful not to touch it with his teeth; he isn’t challenging Herc, who made them both what they are. That doesn’t mean he can’t use it to tease his brother, and he does until Raleigh, panting and writhing in his lap, pulls back, putting distance between them.

“I want you,” Raleigh explains breathlessly, “but I don’t want to explain to Herc why I got caught with my pants down in a stolen truck in Grey’s parking lot.”

Yancy can’t help the giggle that bubbles up from his chest. “Would that be better or worse than getting caught in the high school chemistry lab with that teacher’s daughter?”

“Shuddup,” Raleigh rumbles at him. “It was her idea. Besides, I’m not even human anymore, so that one doesn’t count.”

Raleigh licks at his brother’s mouth, and Yancy lets him in, wondering how they got here so quickly, as if it was never really a question of whether he would bed his little brother, but when. If they hadn’t been turned, if they were still human, would they ever have touched? He doesn’t care to follow that line of thought, though, because if there’s ever been anything in his life that’s unquestionably right and good, it’s this.

He doesn’t know what Herc will think of it, but even though Herc has become the center axis of their world, Yancy doesn’t care. Their Alpha keeps telling them to mind their instincts, and everything Yancy is tells him that Raleigh is his to love and to mate.

But there are limits.

Rutting like teenagers in front of Grey’s place is one of them.

With a dramatic sigh, Yancy coaxes Raleigh back into his own seat. The truck grumbles a little as he gets it back on the main road, but its smooth enough once they get going. By the time the Shatterdome gates are in sight, Yancy has almost managed to get rid of his erection by sheer will power, although the sight of Raleigh lounging in his seat, a smile on his lips, and the scent of the man’s desire makes it almost impossible. When Yancy opens the vents to let in some fresh air, Raleigh barks out a laugh and leers at him.

They don’t say much. They don’t have to. All they want is to be alone together, behind a locked door, to see where this new thing they have is going to take them.

*******

There are even fewer consequences to face for stealing a truck and vanishing for several hours than they’d expected. As Rangers their only actual superior officer is the Marshall, but they’re otherwise unhooked from the Ice Box’s command structure, and no one has any interest in getting Pentecost out of bed to yell at them.

The motor pool chief has several unkind words for them, though, which… are probably justified, but they can’t summon up even a hint of remorse, and Raleigh leads Yancy out by the hand before his brother can shove her through a wall.

That would have only slowed things down even further, and they’re agitated and distracted and wired as it is. They aren’t unaware enough to think they’re being subtle, since they’re far too pale to hide even a faint blush, and neither of them can quite stop smiling. The dome is about as quiet as it ever gets, though, so they’re spared too much attention.

Even so, it seems to take forever to get through to the pilot’s quarters, where they find a pair of Striker’s crew stationed outside their door. The two don’t say a word; they just nod and walk off, probably to report to their chief that the errant Beckets are back.

Yancy bristles, but Raleigh, his priorities in better order, has him pinned to the wall before he can say a word, sliding his hands into his open jacket and kissing him, making him forget everything else exists.

It also makes both of them forget the door code. The way Raleigh starts licking Yancy’s neck is absolutely no help at all.

The door opens after a small eternity and the two of them sort of stumble in. There might be a moment where they stare at each other uncertainly, giving them time to back out, but if there is, it’s so brief they don’t even notice.

Jackets and boots go flying, and, damn, Yancy thinks for a second that maybe he really is getting old, because Raleigh’s got his sweater and shirt off before he finishes getting his second boot off. Then he suddenly got his arms full of horny younger brother, and that just about marks the end of any kind of rational thought for the rest of the night.

Because Raleigh’s skin is hot to the touch and he trembles when Yancy runs a hand slowly up his spine, and when he tilts his mouth, silently asking for a kiss, Yancy pulls him in tight and takes his time. Raleigh molds himself to his brother’s body, and they stay like that, joined together, until they can’t find enough air between them and draw back a moment.

Raleigh, face flushed and eyes dark, looks like a man getting everything he wanted for Christmas. Not a boy; not like his baby brother. A man, a shifter. His scent reads health, strength, beta, kin, and more than any of that, beloved.

_Beloved._

“Raleigh,” he whispers, taking his face in his hands. They lean together, and their lips touch, and the kiss is tender and slow, drawing them together more fundamentally than any of the others had.

“Want you, Yance,” Raleigh whispers back against his mouth.

Yancy answers by dipping down to gently bite him in the soft flesh beneath his chin. Then he leans back and pulls his own shirt off, lifting an eyebrow at his brother, who laughs and pulls his own pants off before starting on Yancy’s belt.

“Goddamnit, stop being so fucking adorable,” Yancy grows, attempting to look stern.

His brother grins and does that thing with his tongue, letting it peek out a bit before wetting his lips.

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble with that kind of attitude, little boy,” the older Becket rumbles ominously before pushing him backwards. Raleigh goes with it easily, sprawling out on one of the beds. When Chuck and Herc were still here, one of the bedrooms had simply been stripped bare and then the floor covered with mattresses, blankets, and pillows, making the whole room a sleeping nest. That was gone, leaving them with a pair of singles that they’d pushed together right away.

Raleigh takes up most of the bed now, but Yancy is pretty confident he can find a way to fit.

He kneels and runs his hands up the insides of Raleigh’s thighs because he’s never been able to before, and the lean muscles are hard under soft skin, and he leans down to brush his mouth across them, feeling the fine hairs against his lips. He licks, tasting traces of sweat and musk, and Raleigh jumps a little at the sensation, but he spreads his legs wider and lifts his knees. Yancy licks up the crease of his thigh and breathes in deep, because Raleigh’s scent is overwhelming, and it sends sparks down Yancy’s spine.

He mouths his brother’s sack, listening to the sounds this pulled from him, then leaves it to lick a stripe up his cock. The sound that evokes is deep and not altogether human, and heat flashes over his skin as he breaks out into a sweat. He takes Raleigh in hand and leans up, licking at the head with broad strokes of his tongue, letting his brother watch him do it.

Braced up on his elbows, the muscles of his long legs flexing as he tries to stay still, Raleigh watches him with wide, dark eyes. He lets his head fall back as Yancy swirls his tongue around, turning his head to trace the circumcision scar, knowing how sensitive it could be.

“Fuck, Yance…” he gasps.

“Could do this to you all night,” Yancy murmurs. “Keep you all wound up, not let you come until I say so.”

“Since when are you such a fuckin’ sadist?”

“I’m an alpha werewolf, baby,” Yancy growls, moving up so he’s on top of his brother, glowering down at him. “Learned from the best.”

“Yeah?” Raleigh murmurs, looking up at him through long lashes. “Then it’s too bad you’re still ticklish.”

Yancy blinks at him, and in that fatal moment the little bastard gets his fingers into his ribs, and fuck, that’s still Yancy’s kryptonite. He squawks and collapses, trying to get his arms in to protect himself, and Raleigh takes complete advantage of the moment to roll them over. They nearly go off the bed, but neither one seems to care that much. Raleigh grins down at him and Yancy retaliates by grabbing hold of both their cocks in one hand and rolling his hips up. Raleigh exhales sharply and then his smiles changes, becomes more heated, as he moves into the gentle grip.

“You wanna?” he asks as sweetly as he can manage.

“Hell yes, I want to.”

“Mmmnnn…”

They kiss and explore each other more slowly now, confident in their desires. This is their first time together, but not their first time. Before they were turned, Yancy had been straight, while Raleigh had swayed back and forth in his preferences over the years. Those things don’t matter anymore. Unless mating for children, gender matters less than love, power, kinship, desire, and other social considerations to their kind, and while they’re still trying to navigate their new world, sex is less of a mystery than the rest of it.

To put it simply, Herc has had them both many times now. Fiercely, to show them their places. Slowly and affectionately, because sex is an affirmation of the best things that bind a pack together. Lovingly, because they both belong to him now. He is their Alpha, and, just as they’ve learned so much else from him already, they have also learned about this. The mechanics of it, certainly, though Raleigh had already known some of those, at least how they worked for humans. For werewolves there is more, and though much is the same, the things that are different matter.

So Yancy knows Raleigh won’t need much to get him ready, and he knows he won’t hurt him just by sliding home. Scent and taste will tell him so much more about Raleigh’s pleasure and any hints of pain than he would have known as a human. Pain and pleasure have different borders now, and there were so many more things to explore now.

And, really, would they have ever done this, before?

Yancy has Raleigh suckle on two of his fingers and then slides them up into his brother’s heat, and he knows he wouldn’t have touched him when they were human. They had always been close, but the need to touch, to be with each other, to confirm everything they know through contact, is a new thing, and they know it’s good; the man who remade their whole world has told them it is.

“Now, Yance, now,” Raleigh begs, and it’s alright, it’s okay, because Yancy will always give him everything, especially when he’s so sweet and so needy and so beautiful.

Raleigh rolls over on his hands and knees, his back one curved arc of desire and submission to his alpha. Yancy wants to protest, wants to deny it in deference to the Alpha they share, but more of him wants his perfect beta underneath him, spread wide and taking everything he offers.

He couldn’t stop himself from mounting his little brother now if he’d wanted. Raleigh groans and whispers his name as he takes all of him, and, dear God, no wonder Herc hadn’t been able to resist him. Raleigh’s scent, his heat, the feel of soft skin and hard muscle, and the way he moves, his whole body rolling into every thrust, are things Yancy knows he’ll never be able to give up again.

Raleigh belongs to Herc, and Yancy belongs to Herc, and if he objects, if he forbids this, Yancy will have to fight him for Raleigh, even though he knows the older shifter can take him apart.

It’s a fleeting moment of doubt and worry, but never regret.

Yancy leans back and watches his dick slide into his brother’s hole, and it’s unreal, it’s the best gift he’s ever been given, but Raleigh doesn’t want slow and contemplative; he wants it hard and fast and now. He yells at his brother and the words make no sense, but Yancy understands every bit of it.

He understands need.

He rocks into Raleigh hard and fast now, teeth bared and growling, and his brother spreads his knees wider, taking it, presenting himself. His brother’s cock is huge inside him, and he wants it, wants Yancy to fuck him open and use him. He loves this, loves being held down and filled up, loves the way Yancy growls at him and licks broad stripes up his neck, loves the smell of their sex. His entire body is alive with the intensity of it, sparking with pain and the pleasure of it, over-sensitive and wracked and alive.

Yancy is searing hot and perfect, and he knows he will always spread for him, will always give himself up to him. He and his brother are tied together now as they have never been before, even in the drift, by crossing this line. Maybe it’s some werewolf bullshit, or maybe it’s just them, but, goddamn, it feels right, better than anything, better than everything.

He loves him so much.

The ghost drift takes their euphoria and plaits it together, makes it stronger, makes it more.

“Gonna come inside you,” Yancy forces out, the pleasure nearly making him dizzy. “My brother, _mine_.”

The keening sound Raleigh makes in response is agreement and understanding and begging, all at once.

Yancy hooks his hands up under Raleigh’s shoulders and grabs hold, looking for leverage, and slams into him as hard as he can manage. Raleigh’s going to be wearing his marks tomorrow, and there will be no hiding this, and Yancy can’t wait. Raleigh is his and will always be his.

The hot ring around his cock flutters and grabs him tight, and Yancy can feel his brother coming undone beneath him, coming on his cock untouched just as he does on Herc’s, and with a feeling something like triumph, Yancy bites down on the back of Raleigh’s neck and comes inside him, shuddering with the ecstasy of it, his cry muffled as he draws blood.

********

They lay together for a long time after that, saying nothing, just being with each other. Yancy licks the bite mark clean, and it heals under his touch. He knows it won’t scar like Herc’s mark did, and he’s okay with that. Something has changed between them, and even though they are both Herc’s, Raleigh is also his now. He’s not sure how any of this works, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll figure it out.

They have time.

*******

The flight is long, and the Beckets sleep through most of it.

They’d met up with Striker’s remaining crew on the deck, waiting for the helos to take them to the airfield, and no one said a word to them about yesterday. They were Herc’s boys, after all.

Marshall Pentecost had seen them off formally, wishing them luck. They’d been his Rangers before any of this, and they were grateful.

As the helo lifted, they took a long look at what had been their home. The Icebox had been a hard place, but they’d come into their own there, the Becket boys on top of the world. Gypsy is gone now, hauled down to Oblivion Bay to await the decision to scrap or rebuild her, and their former lives had gone with her. It’s hard to forget that.

Raleigh leans into Yancy, drawing his attention away from the new pair of dog tags he’d been issued that morning. “Whatcha looking at?”

Yancy holds up a tag for him to look at, knowing Raleigh hasn’t had time to look at his own.

“Huh.”

Right below their names and numbers, the letters ‘W R-HHansen-AUS’ have been added to both sets of tags.

Werewolves. Alpha: Ranger Hercules Hansen, Australia.

“Are we still Americans?” Raleigh asks, bemused.

“Does it matter?”

They look at each other, and Raleigh thinks about what could have been, and shrugs.

“Hell if I know. Long as we’re together, I don’t care, either.”

Yancy kisses him, and Raleigh settles beside him, snuggling as much as the seats will allow.

They have a long way to go.


End file.
